


Scent

by InLoveAndSqualor



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, M/M, MCR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-19
Updated: 2009-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLoveAndSqualor/pseuds/InLoveAndSqualor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a night out drinking together Frank decides to tell Gerard how he really feels about him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scent

The scent of vomit fills my lungs as I crouch heaving in this bathroom stall…

And yet that awful, attacking, caustic smell cannot overpower the stench of love that creeps under, and through, the cracks in the door behind me.

Fuck... Frank next time you want to confess to me your misplaced feelings of affection… Try doing it when I haven’t drowned myself in half of this, cheap and charmless, bars supply of corrosive, lung burning, mind wasting, vodka.

You don’t love me Frank...

You don’t even know what the word means...

How dare you destroy everything we’ve built together just because you couldn’t squash that burning desire to purge out your confused confessions of delusional love? 

You want to undo years of friendship because you’ve decided there’s something between us?

What was I to you?

Was our friendship a lie? 

All those moments that we’ve shared together… What do they mean now?

You sung out confessions of love and desire as if they meant something more than the obvious shallow infatuations that they really are...

And you, in your innocent arrogance, just thought that I’d fall into your arms…

Do you think I can undo my entire life just because you’ve decided that you’re ready to take the leap… Without the thought of even asking me how I feel?

Another dry heave. Fuck... I feel like I’m dying.

I searched your eyes as you sat mumbling vague sentiments to me… Small offerings about how we were the very best of friends… And yet didn’t I feel that same growing sense that there was something more between us than we dared to admit?

But all I felt, sitting opposite you in that dim and dingy bar, was the familiar feel of nausea creeping up my throat; wrapping its hands around my larynx until its knuckles turned a ghostly shade of white.

And I must have looked as horrified as I felt... All bewildered and intoxicated; in the early stages of drunken decline.

And why is it Iero that you can drink my ass under the table...? You still sitting there smiling while I’m squinting in the vain attempt to reduce the three of you I see into just the one. 

I’d noticed you knocking them back tonight; saw the certain urgency in the way you lifted the glass to your lips... The desperation that forced you to imbibe shot after shot until your world had that perfect drunken numb haze about it. 

I knew at that point, even, that tonight you were drowning something... Be it sorrow, be it memories, be it pride.

We’ve been friends for so long…. So that I just knew.

Oh God... There’s that awful tightening of my throat; the growing wetness in my mouth, there‘s the convulsions repeating deep within my stomach, that tell me I‘m going to be sick again. 

God Gerard you really are an Adonis, a prime example of the beauty of man… Head hung low over a filthy porcelain bowl, lips wet and half open, in the hope that this retch will be the one to rid me of all this poison I’ve consumed… And perhaps mercifully… The thought of you. 

I guess, just like you, I always drink too much when we’re together... Because really I can’t handle that awkward heady tension that always finds its way into our most mundane of moments.

And is that the way I deal with the most difficult things in my life? 

I guess… 

And do I regret that?

Well right now…. God yes I do… My mouth unbearably close to this communal latrine.

What in God’s name possessed you to say it? We’ve always had this unspoken deal together and now you want to go and turn the world upside down… 

And really this room’s spinning so much faster than I’d like… While I wallow in my own self induced despair.

And for some reason 'I’m not good enough for you...' slips into my mind.

The convulsions in the pit of my stomach are getting worse.

I hear a faint knock on the stalls door. Angrily I ignore it but it comes again and again and again until the sound penetrates my skull and rips through my brain.

I stagger up.

Realise my legs don’t want to hold me.

I snap open the latch with a look of pure agony and hatred on my face.

And there you are… All concern and infatuation.

“Frank… Get the hell out of here,” I yell turning my back on you.

“I’m a little…” I pause drunkenly grasping for the phrase. “Worse for wears,” I sigh.

And I want to beg for you to leave, because strangely your presence is more than I can bear… And I’ve never not wanted you by my side before.

“Gerard… I’m… I’m sorry,” you mumble but I’m not going to hear you.

I take a step away and this stall is shrinking by the second.

Fuck... Frank... You were supposed to be the one person who appreciated me for who I am, not who I could be to them. You were supposed to value me as an opposite and an equal, not an object of desire, not something to take as yours. But why can’t I articulate all these things I want to say?

“I'm sorry... I am sorry… But I know you feel the same,” you insist.

I hang my head low and shake it.

'Get out,' I want to scream but my lips just tremble and I feel tears prick in the corners of my eyes.

I hear a step forward and realise I have nowhere left to run.

A hand reaches up and desperate fingers tangle into my sweat soaked hair.

You’re dragging me backwards and I stumble uselessly towards you.

I whimper and fall; and you swing around in front of me.

You let go and with both palms shove me until my back meets with the tired, graffiti littered, door.

And why am I feeling excitement rush through me?

You grasp my shaking shoulders; dig palms into their hollows.

And what is it that feels so good about a person being that little bit too careless?

Your deep hazel eyes look impossibly glazed over… And I’ve never seen you like this…

And when you lean forward our lips don’t meet; they collide.

You crash your lips into mine and my head ricochets against the surface behind me.

The pain tears me from drunken numbness.

I want to tell you I don’t want this. 

But really I know you’d recognise me lying. 

And why the hell are my hands exploring your body...? 

Why are my hands trembling about your fly and why am I letting your tongue into my waiting mouth?

And I’m asking myself… Really did I want my world turning upside down after all? Have I wanted you in that same way that had horrified me so? 

What have I being trying to protect myself from?

When your hands greet my shivering body I let a moan fall out and onto your tongue.

I wanted you too but I was so afraid.

Your forceful lumbering lust is waking me up.

You know I love you Frank.

And I think this is just the beginning. 

The scent of love fills my lungs and erodes, totally eradicates, everything else I knew before.

**Author's Note:**

> Contest Entry  
> Theme/Prompt: Scent


End file.
